Horizons of the Heart

By Melange
Copyright © 2013 Melange
All Rights Reserved.

Synopsis

A new place brings a new opportunity, as Farcrest, the capital city of Alband hosts the yearly Convocation of Magi. The six friends all spend a national holiday doing what they love. What could possibly top a day like that?

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Prologue

Let’s follow a raindrop.

It rose up from the world and joined the endless blue in a dance across the heavens. There were many like it, but this drop was special. Unlike the others, formed from morning mist fading under the sun, or the breath of the great forest, this drop had left the world below the clouds as a tear. Born out of sadness, it would follow the winds of fate and bring new life where it landed. The raindrop would shed the reasons it had been formed, and become a part of the eternal song of the world.

All cultures, all beings, no matter where or when, has a song of their own. The song is an expression of the bonds shared by family, friends, and land. All life is brought into the world with a song — the cry of a new-born, the chant of a community, the anthem of a nation, and the hymn of a faith.

The knights of Telum, the Sword of Heaven, sing the praise to their god when they ride into battle. The warriors of the Northern Lands strike fear into their foes as they lend their voices to the battle-skalds. Even the mysterious Lacunai are part of the melody when they strike strange notes on the strings of magic.

Song was our connection with the land before there were words, and the song will outlive the words as our final breath leaves us.

This is the story about a song and the raindrop it had brought into being.

Sing it with me.

Chapter 14: Foundations of Trust

A crow followed the wind as it swept in from the sea. From up above the large city, it could see far across the land, where the forests began and the roads stretching out toward the horizon. Another crow joined it as they soared across the harbour and into the city itself. The two birds had seen many things, more than most would expect. Their black eyes found the familiar shape far below in the middle of countless others like it. As they began their dive, the grey clouds finally let go of the raindrops they had cradled up until now.

Summer in Alband was always an unreliable thing. Weather shifted quickly, and even the brightest morning could hide a midday rain. The people of Alband took this in stride, however. To them, there was no such thing as bad weather, if you just dressed sensibly. This meant that you could always tell a foreigner. They were the ones running for dry cover once the rain inevitably fell.

One raindrop fell quicker than the others, as if it had an important message to deliver.

“Augh!” The black-haired man wiped his face with a gloved hand. The sky had suddenly turned darker, and when he looked up the first drop had hit him straight in a golden-brown eye. The increasing drip-drop of the rain reached his decidedly pointy ears.

“I told you,” said the short redhead by his side. She wore a hooded cloak and an insufferable smirk, and looked up at her companion with eyes that matched the rainclouds’ colour. “No way would we make it back to the inn before the heavens opened up on us, but you just had to check that last shop, Jay.”

“It was worth it, Ollie,” Jaden gave his eye another gentle rub. His eye was tearing up a bit, for some reason. “You normally can’t find quality mountain herbs this far away from home. It’s a wonder they had nearly fresh sorenica there.”

“Sorenica? I’ve never heard of that one before,” Oleander said, making sure her hood stayed up to keep the rain away. She had spent much too long with her hair this morning to have it get ruined by stupid weather.

“It’s, uh, got another name around here.” Jaden grimaced a little, blaming himself for not seeing this coming.

“Yeah, what’s that?” She sounded interested. She could smell secrets a mile away, and her friend was full of them.

“It’s not important. You use it in stews. It really brings out the flavour in the meat, you’ll see.” He kept his eyes fixed down the street, trying to sound as casual as possible.

“C’mon, what’s it called?” The redhead bumped into him with her shoulder, using all her tricks of persuasion.

Jaden mumbled something under his breath, and walked a little faster.

“What was that, Jay? I couldn’t hear you.” Oleander had no trouble keeping up. She was much quicker than him, any day of the week.

“Elfclover, okay?” He shot back. That had done it.

“Oh, a traditional herb your people use?” Oleander teased with large innocent eyes, and kept on teasing all the way back to their inn.

A week earlier

After the events in Redwall, Jaden and his friends had stayed for a few days to make sure none of the demon’s servants had sought cover in the Ealbourne Forest seeking to return at a later time. They had also sent word to Rosehaven and the prelate of the temple, that his brother’s family was safe and explaining the circumstances around the bad feelings the priest had picked up on during his visit. By and large, the village had survived intact, and the repair work would be handled quickly. The scars in the hearts of the people, however, would take longer to heal. They had been betrayed and used by someone they had trusted and welcomed, and it might be a while before they would be able to open their community to another outsider.

One question kept coming back, however: where had the Tassards gone? The baron and his wife had left their young son behind when they fled their burning mansion. Through the clues they had found within the baron’s journals, it was clear that Ariken and Juliss had come into contact with the world of dark magic through some associates in Farcrest, the capital of Alband. That began to show the beginnings of a frightening development. The Sons of Husk had been an isolated cult in northern Olmar, but recently expanded across the border, and also into the free city of Tier that lie nestled between the countries. If the Tassards had come into contact with nethermancy in Farcrest, either the Sons of Husk had reached further than they had imagined, or there was a separate organisation in Alband with similar interests. Either way, it deserved investigating.

“We could always return to Tier,” Mirena suggested as they discussed their next move. “At least there, we know what to look for, and we have people we can talk to.”

“True, but we’ve also made ourselves somewhat unwelcome for the nearest future. We put two buildings to the torch,” Stann glanced at Jaden, who just shrugged weakly. “Not to mention some exploratory brawling on Rhyce’s and my part. There was also the instigation of a gang war, I recall?”

“Good times,” Oleander said with a smile. The Whitewater Cartel had only needed the slightest provocation to move in on the Sons of Husk territories. She had provided them with more than enough.

“The cult is probably scattered and disorganised now. That will make it very hard for us to track them down, and will make us targets for vengeance of opportunity if they spot us in the streets. We’re memorable like that.” Kellen was at least a head taller than anyone in the room, or any room for that matter. People tended to remember hulking Northmen, especially those who reduced warehouses to rubble with runic magic.

“Very well, you’ve convinced me,” Mirena laughed a little. “A pity, though. The Founding is coming up, and this will be the first time in years I’ve not spent it in my home city.”

“They celebrate the Founding in Farcrest too,” Jaden pointed out. All countries that had been part of the empire still honoured that day, although for different reasons today.

“I know, Jaden. I will just miss the parades and dances. Alband is not nearly as, ah, developed a cultural scene as Tier.” There were times when Mirena’s elitist background shone through her gentle demeanour.

“As an added incentive, I do believe the convocation of magi will take place in Farcrest this year. Traditionally it’s held the day after the Founding, when everyone’s good and stuffed from over-eating. We missed it last year when we were in Etrana, I recall,” Kellen mused, and stroked his moustache with a large hand. “It would be very rewarding to speak with some fellow scholars. I have been eager to share my discovery of the spirit drawstone rune I crafted.”

“Well, you go do that wizard thing, Kel. Me, I just want to get back into a real city!” Oleander was getting itchy. They had been a week out of a walled city, and she missed the comfort and opportunities of the crowds. Also, she would need to get into contact with a reliable fence to unload some of the shinier trinkets she had found around the Tassard mansion.

Rhyce grunted a little. To him, it was the other way around. But he wouldn’t complain. He’d survive, the way he always did. The archer touched the spot on his chest where his rescuer had touched him. It still felt warm sometimes. Rhyce glanced sideways at Jaden, who was talking with Kellen about that gathering of magicians. He couldn’t see it right now, but he could hear it. The voice was different.

“Hey, Jay? Will there be other mystics like you at that convection thing?” The redhead looked up from the bowl of dried fruit snacks at her friend, who she was sitting right next to.

“Talraman always send a couple of representatives, by custom. I have no idea who it will be this year, but I remember my father going one year when I was little.” Jaden’s mind was whirling with possibilities. If he could attend the meeting, he would have the chance to speak with some of the best and brightest magicians of this age. This would be an amazing opportunity to find some way to reverse what was being done to him.

The thought had barely formed in his head when a strange sadness began to well up from deep inside. Ever since that night after the fighting had stopped, when he had tried to allow himself to see what the mirror saw, he had felt so calm. He had slept better that night than he had in months, almost as if someone had been stroking his hair while he dreamt, just like his mother had done while he was a child.

Did this influence come from the spirit inside him? The mystic was supposed to be the driving force in this union, and the spirit but a source of strength. At least, that was what Jaden had grown up hearing. After the joining, the spirit became submerged in the mystic’s mind, losing any individuality. Had the joining gone wrong, somehow? Or was he just too weak to establish dominance?

These thoughts followed him for a long time.

When they prepared to leave Redwall, the first wagons had begun to appear. People from Rosehaven had collected supplies and other assistance to help their sister community in a time of need, and there was no surprise when they saw a familiar face climbing down from one of the first ones to arrive. The Prelate Matrick immediately embraced his brother tightly, then his nephew and nieces. Jaden had a feeling the village would be just fine.

Now

The singing reached the windows of the Old Hog Inn in the craftsmen’s district of Farcrest. The Founding was in memory of the imperial rule, originally to celebrate the august ruler. Over a hundred years ago, it instead became a celebration of independence, as the countries broke free one by one. Today the Founding was observed mostly out of tradition, and how people wanted a reason to sing, drink and be merry. Every country had its own take on it these days. Tier was famous for its grand parades, and Olmar had great games of horsemanship and archery. Alband seemed content with dancing and feasting, though there were many tents offering storytelling, games of chance or skill, and even some jugglers and acrobats. From their window, they could see down to the Potter’s Square, where a stage had been erected. Right now, a choir clad in white and green sang in honour of a forgotten part of their history.

The Old Hog was a favoured spot for the after-work crowd among the skilled workers, much thanks to its hearty ale, thick stew, and the owner’s steadfast refusal to allow musicians to play there. It’s fer drinkin’, not a soddin’ glee-house, Turgar would tell anyone who asked. The dwarven innkeeper stood by his beliefs, even this far from the stone halls of Atun.

“This is nice,” Mirena offered, while drinking her tea. She and Stann had already been back before the rain started, and sat by their table when the rest began to return together with the lunch crowd. Still, the wistful look in her eyes spoke of how she missed her home city.

“Hah. Back in Strom, we would’ve had pig-wrestling competitions by now. Song and dance is all good, but it’s not the same without your arms around a fierce boar.” As always, there were some cultural differences between the North and the other countries. Stann waved down a barmaid for a refill of his beer.

“I didn’t know you celebrated the Founding?” Mirena looked surprised. The North had been the only truly unconquered part during the high imperial age. It was strange that they’d have any part in something that belonged to that period.

“We don’t,” Kellen explained, never far from giving impromptu lectures about the history of his people. “We revere Midsummer, a time when even our frozen home is green and blossoming. It’s a time of great joy, and a lot of marriages take place around then.”

“I love the summer back home. My favourite day of the year,” Stann joked, and knocked his tankard against his cousin’s. The two men laughed heartily at a joke they’ve told and heard a hundred times before.

“What about you, Jay? Do you have the Founding in Talraman?” Oleander shook her head at the merry Northmen, and pulled her own tankard a bit further away to avoid it getting knocked over.

“Eh, not really. I mean, we have some, uh, cultural observances — but we weren’t part of the empire either. Not in the traditional sense. Most of our festivals are in memory of other things,” Jaden said evasively. The secretive nature of the Lacunai was hard to grow out of, even after more than a year away from home. Every child of the mountain was taught to keep the practices of the Lacunai to herself if she ever left home.

“Sounds boring,” the redhead decided, and turned back to Kellen to ask something else.

Jaden rubbed his hand through the glove, where the scar on his palm still hurt a little. Grabbing the blessed sword of a temple knight while in his manifested form hadn’t been the best idea. In the end, it hadn’t even worked. It worried him how the brand had stayed with him once he shed his spirit’s shape, though. Any injuries should have gone away together with the transformation, after all. It was an integral part of the mystic’s dualism, the separate forms. Otherwise, something that had managed to hurt a mystic manifesting a powerful spirit, like his father, would probably kill the magician once they turned back to their normal forms. No, this was different. This was something new.

“Are you getting sick, little brother?” Stann suddenly asked, putting down the second empty tankard. “You sound like you have a hoarse throat or something.”

“I, uh-“ Jaden’s hand touched his neck. There had been some definite changes after his last manifestation. He had made it even worse by siphoning all that energy off the demon of Redwall, Amucia. It had broken some sort of dam inside of him as it overflowed his body with magic. He had received a taste of true power back then, feeling like he could do anything. How easily he had dispatched the two demonic servants with just a flick of a wing.

“Jaden should know better than to run around in the rain,” Rhyce interrupted to everyone’s surprise. The archer gave Jaden a brief glance before continuing. “In my village, we borrowed customs from many countries. We even made a Sorunese flower-wheel on the commons.”

Hearing Rhyce voluntarily offering up some of his past was more than enough to draw attention away from Jaden. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like the secretive archer returned an acknowledging nod at Jaden’s grateful look. What did that mean?

The changes were getting harder to hide, though. When Jaden had first met his friends, they had been really subtle, and since they had nothing else to compare to they were none the wiser. After Tier, the softness and swells had grown more pronounced, but still something his mirage veil could hide, the silk kerchief able to create a cosmetic illusion at the caress of his magic. But since his last change in Redwall, it was not so easy anymore. It was now necessary for him to avoid being touched too closely. There would be no hiding things if someone hugged him, for instance; the waist was much too slender, and the… chest now significantly larger. The veil would only create an illusion that extended a couple of inches outside his body, and things were grazing that upper limit at this point.

Jaden also really missed his chemise. It had been torn apart when he manifested his spirit-form back in Redwall. Clothes weren’t made for wings, after all. The ride up the coast to Farcrest had been a study in discomfort, he learned after only a day in the saddle. Things had rubbed raw and red, and his saddle no longer felt like the one he had spent a year breaking in.

What’s worse, it had affected his balance. Jaden prided himself on being able to keep up with Oleander or Rhyce if they had to speed across rooftops, chasing the skinwalker of Etrana for instance. Now, he wasn’t so sure. Things felt like they were moving differently, and his steps were slightly too short. Just enough for him to stub his toes absolutely everywhere. Not to mention how any vigorous motion made everything sway and jiggle. Maybe he had to get one of those bodices to keep everything in place?

“Here you go, Jay.” The smell of gentle spices hit him in the face. Oleander put a cup of warm milk in front of him. Cinnamon and honey.

“What?” Jaden was ever so eloquent.

“For your throat, stupid. I don’t know much about magic, but you want to keep your voice, right? Otherwise, you’ll be even more useless to us.” She hid her concern with the playful mocking.

He had lied to his friends a week ago, telling them how he hadn’t been able to help out during the fighting in Redwall. The truth was that he had been very active indeed, and came close to defeating the demon all on his own, but he couldn’t tell them that. Thinking about it just made his palm hurt again.

“So, do you have any plans on how you want to spend the Founding?” Mirena sounded like she wanted to say something more, but waited for her friends to reply.

“Well, aside from eating until I’m cross-eyed, I thought I’d see if I could catch a play. It’s been a while since we had the opportunity to see a real theatre.” While there certainly had been plenty of theatres in Tier, neither Kellen nor any of the others would have had the time.

“This is my first time in Farcrest. We didn’t really get to look around much yesterday since the weather was just awful, but I bet there are all kinds of places to explore,” the redhead smiled. All the best places were squirreled away from the tourist streets; especially in her line of business. She could almost hear the musical clinking of gold coins in her hand after she found somewhere to sell her ill-gotten gains.

“Oh, I think I’ll visit the artisans’ terrace too, but after moonrise,” Stann said casually, looking a bit sideways at the door.

“That late? What happens then?” Mirena wondered. She knew the celebrations would often continue well into the night, and at some places even through the night, but she hadn’t heard about any special events.

“My cousin here overheard that the Sorun delegation would hold a midsummer night’s carol there,” Kellen explained, with a patient shake of his head. Sometimes he wondered about Stann.

“Ah,” Mirena saw the attraction for her warrior friend. Sorun was, after all, the realm of the elves.

“What about you, Rena? Any plans of your own?” Oleander swivelled back to face the knight, bumping into Jaden’s legs as she did so. He pulled back quickly, which caused an odd knot inside of the redhead.

“As it happened, I heard about a formal ball this evening at the silver grove plaza, not far from the court district we passed on our way here.” Mirena got a dreamy smile on her lips, and then looked around the table. “I was hoping some of you would like to come with me?”

“I’m not much of a dancer, Mirena,” Kellen gently declined with a small shake of his head.

“Rhyce? Would you like to come?” She turned to the archer, who had sat silent since his earlier moment of sharing.

“I’m sorry, Rena. I made a promise to be somewhere else,” he replied with a neutral expression.

“I see. Well, I hope all of you will have a wonderful time on this Founding’s festival.” Mirena was a little hurt that none of her friends seemed willing to accompany her, but she knew them well enough to see that they just had different interests.

They all wished each other a happy Founding, or midsummer in two cases, and went their separate ways.

“Why did I have to go with you, again?” Jaden complained as his redheaded friend pulled him through the festival crowds. He didn’t enjoy how they had to squeeze past some people, and he definitely didn’t enjoy a surprised look he received when his touch did not match his looks.

People were everywhere, loud and probably a little drunk by now. Whatever way she was leading them, it took them straight through the busiest streets of the city. On the positive side, they got to see glimpses of some Marsander acrobats doing impossible things on a stage.

“Because otherwise you’d just be stuck in your room moping around until tomorrow, and you know it. You’ve been all kinds of strange ever since Redwall, Jay,” Oleander shot him a suspicious look under her carrot red bangs. Something was definitely up with Jay.

“You’re probably right. I guess I just haven’t got into the feeling of this Founding of yours, and the idea of people from home being here in Farcrest makes me a bit…” Made him what? Afraid? Ashamed? Angry? He had so many feelings lately he could hardly put names to.

“Well, you’ll get to meet them tomorrow, right? At that big magic meet-and-greet?” Oleander checked a street sign, and veered up along a slightly less crowded side alley. “Hey, maybe I should come along too? I always wanted to see those mystics you never talk about.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Ollie. Also, only magicians are allowed inside, remember?” Trying to talk Oleander out of bad ideas was like trying to nail porridge to a tree.

“We’ll figure something out,” she just waved his concerns away with a hand, and then pointed at a low-hanging sign next to a basement shop. “Oh, here it is. Let’s find shinies!”

By shiny things, Oleander was talking about the strange contraptions she often used during her less honest pursuits. While she was busy talking shop with the bald and wiry proprietor of the store, Jaden looked around on the cluttered shelves and saw nothing resembling order. He was also pretty sure most of the things in here were stolen. It wouldn’t be the first time she dragged him along to her thieving contacts. If someone questioned the elfish-looking man hanging around in the background, she just introduced him as her ‘associate’, and that seemed enough for most places. He hadn’t thought of it before, but he realised now that maybe Oleander was trying to include him in some of the parts of her life she kept from their other friends? He wasn’t sure of what that meant, though.

“Alright! I finally got my three-tooth medium rigid pick again.” She slipped it into her sleeve with a smile. She had really missed that one. It was one of her favourite ones for simple locks and latches. She also bounced a leather pouch heavy with coin in her hand. She had money, a warm bed waiting, and a… friend. This would be the best Founding festival in forever.

“I’m happy for you, butterfingers. Can we go now? Your accomplice over there looks like he wants to close up,” Jaden nodded over to the man who was pointing at the door with a frown.

“I still blame you for that, but yeah, let’s go spend some of this gold!”

They visited several other stores that stayed open hoping to catch the extra business from the evening crowd, and one of the back-street curiosity shops even had some rather interesting books for sale. Jaden was leafing through them long enough for Oleander to get bored and look at the people passing by outside. She missed them the first time as they ran past in a group, but the second time she recognised the look in their eyes. A glance over her shoulder told her that Jay would be spending a bit longer in here, enough for her to see if she could do something she wished she had done back home.

Oleander slipped out of the shop and looked around. Now that she knew what to look for, she quickly found the woman by the street crossing, trying to keep the many children together. It wasn’t that different from where she had been three years ago.

“Uh, hi? Happy Founding’s Day to you,” Oleander smiled at the young governess, who looked up from her charges for a moment to smile.

“The same to you, milady,” the woman looked a little harried by trying to keep track of all the children. It was strange for Oleander to be addressed like that, but she guessed her clothes were in better style than the lower classes. How quickly life had changed.

“Do you run the orphanage?” The redhead asked, as she waved at some of the young ones who had stopped running around to gawk at the stranger talking to their governess.

“There’s some more of us, but I do my best — Lotan? Stop pulling Crissas’ hair!” She looked back at Oleander with an apologetic smile. “They’re very excited for this day. We’re going to see the free plays down by the terrace.”

Oleander looked back over the shop she had left, and saw Jaden coming out. He was looking for her. She turned back to the woman, and pushed the leather pouch in her hands. The governess’ eyes went wide when she felt its contents.

“What… how… how much is this?” She stammered.

“Sixty gold crowns or so, give or take. Make this a memorable night for the children,” Oleander waved and left the stunned woman to cradle the unexpected generocity, as she quickly walked back to meet up with Jaden.

“May the five gods bless you!” The woman called out as they went their separate way.

“What was that all about?” Jaden looked a little confused. He was used to people shouting after Oleander, but they rarely had happy things to say.

“Just the sound of you being the one to buy our dinner, Jay. C’mon, we’ve got plenty more to see. The market next, I think!”

“How come I went along with you, cousin?” Stann squinted up at the stage, trying to follow the story as delivered by the actors. He neither had the temperament, nor the book wisdom, to appreciate plays like these.

“Relax, Bear. You’ll be in time for the elves’ performance. Just enjoy the piece. You can learn something here,” Kellen whispered back, earning some glares from the neighbouring seats.

In the spirit of the day, the theatre held the classical play of Emperor Sartekh and the unification of the seven kingdoms. The actor portraying the emperor really managed to convey the great man’s burning desire to bring order to a chaotic world and bring all people together under one banner.

The scene now was the legendary meeting between the emperor himself and the king of Gion, the emperor’s fiercest opponent throughout the wars. This was when they met under a flag of truce, knowing that tomorrow would bring a battle that would end one of the sides. They set aside their conflict for just one evening, to meet as men, and not rulers. The king of Gion would ask the emperor how far he intended to take this war, and how many lives that would be lost for this ambition?

“’Peace can only be won once we all follow a single truth, and a single throne. If not mine, then someone else’s. I will gladly lay down my life if it meant our future would be as a unified people’,” Kellen mouthed the words as the actor spoke them. The king had been so moved by the emperor’s words that he had thrown down his sword there and then, and became the staunchest friend of the man who would unite the kingdoms.

It was a story about friendship. It was a song about yearning for peace at any price.

The park was named by the old silver pines that grew in a rough circle large enough to host hundreds of people at once. It was after nightfall, and the plaza was lit by a great number of silver lanterns that seemed like fallen stars across a sea of marble tiles. Next to the many passages that winded into the park stood carriages that had brought the younger lords and ladies of the city to this evening of dancing. The coachmen stood gathered to the side and patiently awaited the time several hours away, when they’d be driving their young masters or mistresses back home. For now, though, they partook in a quiet Founding party of their own, passing a bottle of brandy around and smoking their pipes.

Mirena remembered how she had arrived at events such as these in her youth, escorted by servants, often with her father or mother. They saw these functions as business opportunities, instead of the simple celebrations of happiness they were. The knight felt many things, but mostly sadness for her parents at times like these. They missed out on so much life had to offer, when they focused at profit alone to the exclusion of everything else.

“I wish some of the others could have come with me,” she said softly, as she walked around the circumference of the dance floor, mindful not to let her starflower blue dress drag through the grass outside the tiles.

“Were you stood up by your friends as well?” The voice came from her side, belonging to a man not much older than herself. He had that light brown hair common to the Albander nobility, and hazel eyes a little crinkled with amusement. Mirena felt he was handsome by anyone’s standards, fit without looking like a labourer, cut and shaven as one who takes care of themselves — or can afford someone to do it for them. From style of his jacket, Mirena was also sure that this man kept abreast of at least the yearly trends, if not the latest fashion. Sensible and aware, but not too eager to please.

“Not so, my lord,” she replied with a smile. This was a formal dance, yes, but without anyone to introduce them she felt that etiquette didn’t require her to curtsy. “They were merely promised elsewhere.”

“A pity for them. The Silver Ball is one of the more anticipated events in Farcrest during the summer,” the young noble looked out across the dance floor where couples had already began to step according to the music. Mirena smiled wider. She knew this particular dance.

“Did you say you were here by yourself as well?” Mirena looked around. There were several others nearby, but none that seemed to act familiar with this man.

“Unfortunately, yes. I was waiting for my brother and his family to show up, but it looks like they may have been delayed. He said he would make it here by today, but here we are,” he spread his hands in a casual shrug. “I’m Arim, by the way.”

“Pleased to meet you, my lord. I’m Mirena.” If this Arim wanted to keep things informal, she wouldn’t mind. All this time away from the courts and on the road with Northmen and urchins had taught her to appreciate a more relaxed stance on refined manners. Not that it didn’t have its use, however.

“Well, Mirena, since we both seem to be here all by ourselves, would you care to join me for a dance or three? It seems a shame to just stand here and let others have all the fun.” Arim held out his hand. She immediately noted that it was unmarked by callouses or inkstains.

“Certainly, my lord,” she curtsied. Now was the time for manners, since she had been formally asked to dance. A small voice in the back of her head was eager to show these people how a true Tierborn danced, however.

She held on to Arim’s hand as they stepped out on the marble tiles, and followed into the pace of the music. His other hand held her by the waist as their smiles met in the middle of the dancing sea. She loved this.

It was probably not all that different from a normal market day, except the tents and booths kept open well into the evening. Some lanterns had begun to show up at intersections and corners, shedding a cosy light through the marketplace. All merchants also seemed to have a ‘Founding special’, be it special sweets, decorations, or small baubles.

Oleander found herself staying by a tent that sold well-made accessories for all sorts of situations. She normally didn’t bother with anything that could get in the way, but lately she had begun noticing how other women dressed. Some of these bangles were very cute.

"…and if I may suggest, my dear, this neckerchief would suit your boyfriend marvellously," the older woman confided, holding up a length of dark red cloth showing subtle gold embroidery.

"My who?" Oleander looked up from the bracelets. She even forgot to pocket one of them when she got the opportunity.

"The gentleman with the black hair you came with?"

"Oh!" Oleander smiled widely. "Oh. Yes, it would!"

Jaden saw the two women haggling over some jewellery, and let out a long suffering sigh. At least there were pleasant aromas coming down from the street vendors. Maybe he could nip off and get a grilled skewer before Ollie realised he was gone?

"Oh, boooyyyfriiieeend?" Her saccharine call made sure he would have no such luck.

Fortunately, Oleander was getting as hungry as Jaden felt, so they decided upon one of the nearby taverns. They had been walking and standing around for the better part of two hours now, and it would be nice to sit down and eat something. The streets around here offered many alehouses and stands with a wide selection, by Alband standards, of food. That’s how they ended up in the rather nice Cracked Kettle tavern, with a funny sign showing a tea-kettle stuffed full of mutton and potatoes to the point of breaking.

The Kettle was less than half full, despite being quite close to the main streets of the city. Most people would have already eaten by now, or were out enjoying the sights during the festival. This suited the two of them just fine, though, and they sat down at a booth. A perky-looking blonde old enough to be their mother, but with still young eyes showed up to take their orders. The barmaid, or maybe barmom in this case, gave off that grandmotherly love-by-food feeling. She even commented on how the young friends were far too thin, and told them how she’d make sure the cook put an extra couple of sausages on their plates.

“I’m sure she meant well,” Jaden said with a smile as the woman finally left them alone.

“I know, but that was so pushy. I’m not ‘rail-thin’! I’m very fit and trim, thank you very much,” Oleander glared after the barmom, but not with any real anger, just a little annoyance.

“Just be happy you’re not as voluptuous as her. That’s just a pain,” Jaden said without thinking.

“First off, what do you mean by that?” She gave him a strange look. “Second, you have no idea what that feels like anyway.”

“Uh, yeah. You’re right,” Jaden hastily added, uncomfortably aware of himself. “I just meant that having… being large like that would make it hard to balance and tumble like you do?”

“I guess,” the redhead sighed a little. Sometimes she felt it would be nice to be a little less small, though. “You’re still not allowed to talk about it like that, though. It’s creepy.”

“Heard and obeyed, milady Lockless,” Jaden feigned his Sorunese accent again, a somewhat less badly than the previous time.

While they ate their greasy food, the voices from the booth next to them got a little louder. They weren’t yelling at each other, but it had gone from a mumble to something the two of them could listen in on. Never one to turn down a chance at eavesdropping, Oleander pointed to the thin separating wall, and wiped some sausage fat off her chin with a hand.

“…don’t care what your shiphands say, you’ll set sail as soon as everything’s on board,” a local voice said in a way that brooked no negotiation.

“It’s getting too dangerous, I tell you,” the other voice had a foreign lilt to it, not quite Etrian though. “I can’t find sleep with the cargo on board either.”

“You just remember who you owe, captain. You’ll take the shipment, and you’ll be happy to do so. Otherwise the harbourmaster may find out about your little, shall we say, ‘side projects’?” The first voice barely bothered to veil the threat.

“That would be very unfortunate. In the best case scenario, the crown would just take your ship away. The worst outcome, though…” A third voice, also Albander, sounded friendly at first but turned into ironclad coercion at the end.

“I… fine, just let me know where to send the boys,” the captain sounded defeated.

“Same place as always. Don’t be late.” The owner of the first voice stood up, and the other two followed suit.

When Jaden and Oleander nonchalantly peeked at the others when they left, they saw two men dressed in a manner suitable for prosperous, although not wealthy, merchants. The third, with a downcast expression, had a wide-brimmed hat and colourful jacket. The accent finally found a place in Jaden’s memory — the man was from the island nation of Marsantias.

“No matter what city we come to,” Oleander said, and paused to slurp up the ale from the bottom of her cup. “No matter where, there are always these constants: pricy inns, cheap delights, and crime. Everything a girl can want!”

“You realise that the cheap delights are often prostitutes, right, Ollie?” Jaden replied, trying to make her blush. It looked like the red crept down from her hair to paint her face.

“I’m sure there are other things as well,” the redhead answered, kicking him under the table.

That put an end to their evening together, and as they stood up to leave Jaden bumped into the table and almost tripped himself. It wasn’t for the first time today either. Oleander looked at him with a pitying expression.

"Seriously, Jay, what's up with you?" She gestured vaguely at him. "You're as graceful as a hamstrung goat."

"I'm not feeling like myself, lately. Must be something I picked up somewhere," he skirted the truth.

"Well, get over it already. I can't have you staggering around like that!" They hadn’t had that much to drink anyway. What was going on with Jay lately?

"I'm not staggering. I'm just a bit... It's just something I need to deal with."

Oleander looked at him with suspicion, but then shrugged and took the lead again. He even sounded strange. Maybe he really was sick? But if he was going to act like that…

"Fine. You don't have to tell me."

"There's nothing to tell!" There's nothing he could tell. Jaden sighed miserably. Luckily the walk back was filled with many distractions, and by the time they had found Potter’s Square again, they had bought more, and eaten more, than they should have.

When they finally had made their way back to the Old Hog, they saw Mirena resting her feet down in the common room. She was wearing one of her favourite gowns, and looked like she had just stepped out of a fairy-tale moment with a prince at the castle. Though, any prince was missing at the moment. She looked a little out of place, bringing a kind of class to the Hog it hadn’t seen since first opening its doors. It wasn’t as rowdy as they’d expect on a night like this, though, but they didn’t complain. The streets had been loud enough to last them for a good long while.

"Come on, boyfriend! Let's stash our swag!" Oleander skipped up the stairs, carrying a sack filled with things she wouldn’t have considered buying normally, but they had picked up from the various stores and markets they had to pass through on their way back.

"Boyfriend?" Mirena raised an eyebrow at Jaden and smiled.

"Just... don't ask. Ollie's been particularly insufferable all night."

"If you say so, Jaden. That's a lovely scarf by the way." The knight just continued to smile, soaking in the pleasure of her evening, and left him alone.

The room was dark except for the light coming in from the street and the night sky. Rhyce had been sitting on the bed with his own thoughts ever since the others had left. He had relived his torture in the shed as vividly as he could make himself, recalling every cut and every punch. In his mind, it didn’t feel the same way anymore. He no longer felt as if he deserved that kind of suffering. It had taken him a long time to reach that conclusion. Maybe too long.

He unrolled the small parcel he had bought earlier that day, and placed the two candles next to his window. With the steady hand of an archer, he struck fire to a piece of tinder and held it over the wicks until they burned bright. Rhyce looked at the small flames for a long while with an unreadable expression, before he heavily sat back on the bed again.

A hand reached in underneath his shirt and pulled out his necklace. It was a simple chain, from a simple life. Upon it were a modest ring, and a small leather tube. His fingers knew every part of the two things he carried next to his heart. Slowly, he made his fingers unstop the tube and pull out a small, much worn piece of parchment.

In the faint light from the candles the words on the note became visible, written in the unsteady hand of a child.

Please come home.

The next day promised to be just as full of activities. It was the day of the convocation of magi, and the subject of most of the discussion around the breakfast table. Of course, Mirena had spoken at length about how nice her evening had been, as had Stann. He had been surprised by how into the play he had been, and had followed Kellen back to the inn before remembering about the elven midnight carol.

“So, will you go along to the confluence thing, Rena?” Oleander asked as soon as she had swallowed her spoonful of breakfast porridge, made by a dwarf, for dwarves. It was something meant to be hammered at a forge.

“No, I doubt I’d be welcome there,” Mirena said with a small smile. There was a separation in the world of magic, larger than those caused by conflicting traditions. It was a question of loyalty.

“Priests, while magicians, are a remnant of the imperial order. In a way, the Five Temples are the last bastion of the old authority in our present day,” Kellen began, getting into his lecturing tone of voice. “The convocation was first gathered for all non-aligned traditions. The idea was to avoid giving a potential military body even more weapons. There are many such strange remainders. Take for instance Gion and Marsantias? According to imperial law, despite that many countries seceded from the empire during the decline, those two countries are still technically under imperial rule. The laws stipulate that they will continue to be so as long as the current dynasty of Sartekh remains on Etria’s throne. That’s why the rulers of those two countries are lords, rather than kings. Though, that distinction is merely a formality these days.”

“How did we go from priests at the consumption, to dynasties of the desert?” Oleander asked, leaning her face on the heels of her hands that pushed her cheeks up like a chipmunk.

“It’s ‘convocation’. It means ‘gathering’,” Mirena explained, smiling into her tea. “I find the history interesting, Kellen. Please go on.”

“Actually, I was just done digressing,” the rune seeker admitted.

“But, aren’t sorcerers employed by states, as well?” Jaden thought out loud. Many rulers and minor nobles had the mercenary magicians at hand for various tasks.

“Yes, but as their tradition — the Arcane Order — hasn’t sworn fealty to a specific country, and just provide services while not being on actual retainer, they dodged that rule. It’s actually come up a few times in past convocations.” Kellen sometimes surprised his friends with the depth, and breadth, of his knowledge.

“That just sounds tricky,” the redhead concluded.

“There are many who agree, little fox.”

“Well, I think I want to come along, if Rena’s not going. You’ll need someone keeping an eye on the two of you!” Oleander poked Kellen’s large arm a couple of times to make her point.

“Ollie, that place is only open to magicians. You can’t come,” Jaden said with an apologetic shrug.

“If you can come, do I have your word you’ll stay out of trouble?” Kellen frowned down at the much smaller Olman woman.

“Sure? I mean, of course.” Oleander held a hand to her heart, and smiled innocently.

“… right. You’re now my apprentice, Red.” Kellen patted her on the head.

“Just like that? I should’ve become a magician ages ago.” She was joking, of course. She knew that only some people had the ability, and she wasn’t one of them.

The Northman dug around in his belt-pouches for a bit, before finding an old and worn stone.

“For authenticity, here’s the first rune of your collection. It’s molgin, a water rune.”

“Is it safe for me to have this?” She took the thumb-sized stone hesitantly, bringing laughter from her friend.

“Yes, don’t worry. It allows a rune seeker to call into being a small cloud that will follow him around. Southlanders call it the ‘cloud companion’ rune,” Kellen smiled. It had been one of the first runes he had discovered during his seeking. It was like a childhood toy; much beloved, but seldom seen.

After dressing the part, Kellen in his traditional robes that were in very good condition — mostly because how he never wore them on a daily basis — and Jaden picking a fitting illusion with a hint of Talramani style, they left the Old Hog. From what Kellen had picked up by talking with a talisman merchant yesterday, one of the city nobles had offered his townhouse for the convocation. It would probably be a point of prestige to be able to claim to have played host to the best and brightest of the magical societies, and might make good future business connections. Especially among the Arcane Order.

The streets were almost eerily empty this early. Noon wouldn’t be upon them for many hours, and most of the city was probably still fighting the aftereffects of the expected overindulgence. With no crowds to fight for passage, the three made very good time to the aristocrat district. The flying carpet passing overhead told them they were headed the right way, as did the several other obvious magicians going in the same direction. Jaden recognised at least four other traditions on this street alone.

The townhouse itself was an expansive building that reminded Jaden a bit of the baron’s manor in Redwall, except with the necessary adaptions to fit into a city. He had no doubt hundreds of magicians would be comfortable within the walls. There was even a short queue outside, but thankfully the servants were only making sure that no obvious summoned guardians or suspended attack spells were present. When it was their time, they were given a quick once-over and then ushered into the great house.

As they walked into the large gathering hall, they were met with a functionary carrying a book and an important bearing.

“Names and traditions, please. We wouldn’t want to place rivalling factions next to one another, after all.” He sounded like he had said this dozens of times already, and he probably had.

“Kellen Winterheart, of the Society of Rune Seekers.” The Northman announced in a strong, but measured voice. It drew the attention of some nearby colleagues wearing a similar robe as him, exchanging polite nods. The functionary jotted the details down in his book, and looked down at Oleander with an arched eyebrow.

“Hi, I’m-“

“This is my apprentice. She’ll just be observing today,” Kellen interrupted the redhead, which was probably just as well.

“See? I’ve got a rune!” Oleander held up her borrowed runestone, with a wide grin.

“That’s… nice. Next?” The thin man turned to the mystic as Kellen pushed his ‘apprentice’s’ hand down, shaking his head.

“Jaden Tarasov, Lacunai Mystic,” he said with a voice low enough that only the scribe would hear.

“Really? We don’t get many of your tradition here, sir. If you would like, the rest of the Talraman envoy is over by the right section.” The thin man pointed with his stylus, then went to the next group in line.

“Wait, who did they send this year?” Jaden caught the functionary by the sleeve, who gave him an annoyed look before tugging free.

“Alam Hetagon, and party,” was the curt reply.

Jaden felt his heart pound in his chest, and swallowed dryly. Alam Hetagon, the sentinel of Talraman. Why would they have sent him? There were many mystics who would be better suited for a diplomatic gathering such as this. It had to mean something.

“Do you know that man, Jaden?” Kellen looked down at his perturbed young friend.

“He’s one of the most famous mystics alive. Alam Hetagon of the Razor Wind, sentinel of the citadel. Lord Protector of the mountain. If we had a king, he would be the general of our army.” Jaden felt like he was babbling. Hetagon had been the example everyone had looked up at when he was a child. He was a hero.

“That’s a lot of titles,” Oleander pointed out, her impression of the man she’d never met dropping a little. To her, titles were a strange idea. People who wanted titles, didn’t deserve them; people who deserved titles, seldom wanted them.

“Sounds like an impressive man. I would like to meet him, if you could introduce us? While I expect him to be quite busy for the duration of the convocation, there are many questions about your tradition I’d like to ask him.” Ever the scholar, Kellen saw an opportunity to expand his horizons.

“I… yes, of course. It would be rude of me not to let him know I was here, too.” Jaden looked around, and immediately saw the Talraman group. After all, there was no other person here with a pair of brown-speckled wings on proud display.

“How do I ask one of them to show their battle-shape?” That was one of the reasons Oleander had wanted to come along. Jaden was so secretive about his, but maybe other mystics would be more obliging?

“Please don’t,” her mystic friend groaned.

They made their way through the hall, seeing cabals of sorcerers talk amongst themselves, a group of shamans that followed Kellen with a dark look, even some spellsingers of the Ruby Lotus that were attracting a large crowd as usual. Jaden felt a little overwhelmed by the ambient magic of this place, but also exhilarated. This would be one of the few places in the world where he would not be considered a freak or be feared. Here, everyone was a little strange.

They stopped next to the tan, powerful man with gryphon wings who wore his years well. His clothes were tailored to allow for his unusual form, of a rich but strong fabric that clung to his body. They were the kind of clothes in which you were meant to fly. His hair plumed backwards in a light brown cascade, and continued down his cheeks in a thick sideburn. Alam Hetagon smelled of the sky and the sun.

Jaden waited until the hero of his childhood had finished speaking to a Tierborn sorcerer, and was about to raise his voice when the winged man turned around.

“Respectful as always, son of Iron Scales,” Alam spoke. His voice was not as deep as Kellens, nor was he as tall, but his presence commanded attention in a way few men could. There was something almost tangible to the way he fixed you with those hunter’s eyes.

“My apologies for the intrusion, Lord Protector. I was in Farcrest by happenstance, and felt I would be amiss not to speak with you while we were here. Let me introduce my good friends Kellen Winterheart, a rune seeker, and his… apprentice, Oleander.” Jaden felt very small next to the two men.

“An honour, rune seeker. It’s rare to see a warrior of the North take up the runic craft, but change is necessary to grow stronger,” Alam nodded at Kellen, measuring the power of the other magician.

“The pleasure is all mine, mystic. I have many questions about the Lacunai, most of which my friend here has been unable to answer over the past year. Maybe I can bend your ear for a spell?” Kellen was positively rubbing his hands together at the opportunity to learn more about the world of magic.

“Young Tarasov hasn’t been very helpful?” The Sentinel of Talraman glanced down at Jaden, and nodded imperceptibly. Secrets were meant to be kept. “I will offer what I can, but before we do that, let me bring my companion protector into the discussion.”

Alam turned and waved into the crowd, causing a person to break away from a conversation and walk back toward them. She had long, black hair that went over her pointy ears, and bright amber eyes. The light leather armour was reinforced with metal plates, and a surcoat showed the symbol of three black claws on a golden field across her chest. She immediately locked in on Jaden once she saw the new people next to her superior.

“This is Lilya Tarasov of the Breaking Hope, a protector of Talraman,” Alam gestured at the woman who was almost a mirror of Jaden. Oleander looked back and forth between the two, her mouth a bit open.

“Hello brother,” the woman said, with the hardest eyes they had ever seen.